


Instinct

by InfernalPume



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: F/F, F/M, Instinct, Might Add More, Other, feral tom, references from other interdimensional coming of age space adventures, y'all know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8922493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: My take on the whole "Feral Tom Does Weird Shit Because of Demony Reasons" because i really like that trope idk. Tomco. Set in my Queen of Hell future AU.





	

The dimension of Hell rests at the very bottom of the aetheric abyss, or the ‘bottom floor’ as its residents so fondly nicknamed it. On one hand this means their world is thick with magic, on the other it meant that the foundation of their reality was constantly shifting in a way that caused it’s human Queen’s skin to crawl. This is why demons have no sense of stagnant concepts like time or physics, the world changed too often to keep track of how _any_ of it worked.

 

Marco found she didn’t exactly mind this. Once she was freed from these concepts life had become far less stressful. But there were downsides. One of which being how awkward it was to re-enter the timeline of a more stable dimension. Sometimes you arrive a day earlier then expected, sometimes millions of years after. Marco had grown accustomed to arriving so far into Earth’s future or past that she did not recognize it, mistaking her home dimension for another and trying again.

 

There was also no way of telling how long any of them might live, as age was not a factor even to those not native to Hell. There was an aloof sense that everyone would die _eventually,_ but since Hell was at the very bottom of all existing dimensions there was nowhere else for your deceased soul to _go._ Dying didn’t really make that much of a difference to anyone, perhaps a minor inconvenience until you got used to it.

 

Lastly, it meant that whatever events one would consider annual or seasonal on Earth could happen erratically at any moment. There had been one instance when by some cosmic mistake the hour of the Bloodmoon had lasted what felt like six years, the lucky couple caught in its gaze practically melting with exhaustion by the time it was over. It was impossible to plan things, impossible to predict the shape of the world day by day.

 

The inhabitants had adapted to this, their deepest instincts able to sense when the world was shifting in a particular direction. It was primarily through instinct that they were able to navigate through their reality, and similarly to how instinct allowed them to survive it also had a nasty habit of controlling their behavior in infrequent extremes. If conditions had enough of a drastic change it would cause a catalyst of demons acting completely unlike themselves, surrendering themselves entirely to instinct.

 

Marco tried to keep this in mind as she sat inside Tom’s locked closet. Perhaps locked was not the correct word, he had melted both the handle and the hinges so it wouldn’t open any time soon even if you had a key. Her prison wasn’t a particularly inconvenient one, like her own closet Tom’s was large enough to be comfortable and had an ottoman to sit on, but the boredom was starting to get to her as well as distaste for the junk that littered the floor.

 

None of it looked to be of any value. There was a baby shoe here, an old Christmas card there, Marco thought she saw a hideously painted bowl laying in the corner. Looking at the items Marco tried to peace together how exactly her husband was feeling. Being locked in a closet suggested he might be paranoid about something, but this random assortment made her wonder if he was just in a hoarding kind of mood. And apparently she was apart of the hoard. Marco racked her memories to see if there had ever been anything similar to this, but found she couldn’t quite place it. It would be a pain putting it all back, Marco tried not to think about it.

 

The flash of fire signaled that Tom was back again, but only to dump another armful of loot into the pile. After he and the flames disappeared Marco rolled her eyes. Cereal. Of course.

 

Deciding to make use of the time Marco kicked off her heels and undid her high ponytail. It wasn’t like whatever was going on meant that she’d be meeting with the rest of the court, they were all likely acting in a similar fashion to Tom right now. Whatever that meant. She retied her hair into a loose comfortable braid and began to sift through the things locked in with her.

 

Turning over the ugly bowl in her hands Marco realized with a lurch of guild that it had been the one Stel painted at her human cousin’s birthday party. What Marco had assumed were flowers were actually candy colored bears hugging sloppily rendered hearts. Turning it over she could see ‘Estella’ sloppily scrawled in black ink, as well as an equally messy “For Daddy”. Marco frowned and looked further, finding photo albums and an abacus of all things. 

 

Finally the flames flared up for the last time as Tom stepped into the closet with Annie tucked snoozing under his arm. The toddler blinked awake drowsily when she found she was no longer in her bed, before sighing and snuggling back into her father’s chest. Tom sat down heavily next to her, stroking his sleepy daughter’s head and breathing heavily as white pupils darted about suspiciously.

 

Marco tucked her knees under her chin and wondered how to give vocal support. It was custom to begin with “Are you okay” but she knew that probably was a stupid question.

 

“How are you feeling Tom?” she finally decided on, making him jump and emit a high pitched growling screech.

 

The only sound resembling dialog she could make out was shushing her erratically. With a frown Marco tried again in a whisper.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Tom replied in his native dialect, and while Marco was fluent in demonic tongue she didn’t quite understand the last bit. He either said something to do with specters from the bowels of the abyss or “We’re ordering Thai tonight”, the pronunciations for both were exactly the same. Marco nodded her head slowly, its not like she minded getting Thai.

 

There was more silence for a bit, Tom gently petting Annie’s head as he watched the door, teeth bared and ears cocked back like a dog’s.

 

With a sigh Marco tried to sit up and demand to be let out when Tom growled and yanked her down with him and Annie. The girl gurgled and wriggled her nose, but otherwise didn’t wake. Marco understood the dark words that came from Tom’s throat to mean “don’t move”

 

Now he was holding the both of them in his lap, his grip too strong for Marco to wrestle free even if she tried. The silliness of the scenario was not completely lost on her, but at the same time there was a growing dread. Usually these flights of feral behavior were interspersed with moments where Tom was himself again, at least long enough to explain exactly what was about to happen. Marco had never seen him so possessive of either her or either of their daughters, and faintly wondered if their babysitter was still alive. Or where Stel was in all this.

 

Gently she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, trying to assure him that everything was alright. His gaze didn’t waver from the closet door, he continued to glare menacingly as if he expected it to be knocked down at any moment by some rival male who wanted to challenge for his territory.

 

More silence, until a pained grunt squeezed from his throat as he clutched the both of them tighter to his chest.

 

Tom tried to slow his breathing to no effect, and very faintly Marco saw what looked like shimmering of light dancing on the other side of the door. In the dark Marco’s eyes widened. Was the palace on fire? If it was they certainly shouldn’t be sitting in a locked closet. She didn’t even think the palace _could_ catch fire, if so it probably would have around the time Tom was going through puberty. Again she tried to rise only to be met with his iron grip. His gaze finally snapped down to her and she saw that his expression was not that of anger or possessive outrage, but rather absolute terror. His voice was a whisper so faint she could barely hear it, but in broken English.

 

“Please…don't move.”

 

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, the tenderness of the gesture mixed with that ethereal flickering filling Marco with dread. What kind of flame frightened Tom so greatly he grabbed his wife and child to hide in a closet? Marco watched the dancing light, and instead of feeling heat there was a strange coldness that filled the room even pressed up against Tom’s skin. Marco suddenly felt the urge to distract herself, to do anything to convince herself that whatever was outside wasn’t a threat. She could count the floorboards, she could make up a little game where she pretended she didn’t exist. Her eyes flitted across the room and rested on the junk she had noticed before. The baby boot, it had been one of Annie’s. She had lost it when she was chased by that hell dog. And the Christmas card was from Star and Janna in Mewni. The bowl of course Stel had made for Tom, happy memories that Marco was desperate to escape into.

 

Eyes resting on the cereal she felt the need to hum the tune to “Awesome Feeling” despite not being able to remember all the words. However she just couldn’t force herself to make the sound, and because of this felt her attention be sucked back into the mysterious horror of that dancing light.

 

Very slowly it drifted out of the room, finally the little family relaxed.

 

“W-what…” Marco finally choked, “What in the ­ _Hell-_ “

 

Tom shook his head, “Not from Hell.” He said in a broken terrified voice, “A little underneath.”

 

Marco sat up somewhat, “I thought we were at the very bottom.”

 

Tom shook his head, “There’s one last layer, underneath us. Its tiny, so small you can barely sense it most days, so small that when it breaks all of those… _things_ c-come rushing out and…” he shook his head. “N-nevermind.”

 

He stood and went about trying to fix the door. They’d have to replace the hinges, but he supposed he could deal with that.

 

Marco’s eye twitched. “Stel.” She breathed, darts of panic shooting through her blood, “Tom where’s Stel?”

 

“In her room,” Tom answered, “They wouldn’t care about her, she’s too young, they only go after adults. I only brought Annie because her caretaker ran away like a _coward._ ”

 

At this the room became hot again, before he forced himself to calm down.

 

“The Watcher’s will be gathering them all up before they slip into other dimensions, whenever they get out they always come through here first.”

 

Marco opened her mouth to ask what exactly those things were that the Authority of High Angels would come to Hell to round them up, but decided against it.

 

“I…” she mumbled, “Wanna order Thai tonight” she finally managed.

 

Tom turned his head to look at her, ears twitching.

 

“Y-yeah, that be nice.” He admitted, handing Annie to Marco as he finally got the door open.


End file.
